


Swoon

by Le_Tournesol



Series: Sunflower’s H/C Fics [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Disaster Gay Keith, Fainting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Hypoglycemia, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Passing Out, broganes, disaster bi lance, humor at Keith’s expense, hurt!keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Tournesol/pseuds/Le_Tournesol
Summary: Keith faints, Lance panics, and Shiro enjoys a  laugh at his brother’s expense.





	Swoon

**Author's Note:**

> idk. seriously. plotless, hastily written Thing.

Lance doesn’t even remember why they were fighting. 

Seriously, one minute they were arguing and shouting at each other, and the next his the words were stolen from him, caught somewhere between his mind and his lips as Keith’s skin paled and his violet eyes rolled back into his head. 

Lance is too slow to react. 

Keith sways before his knees buckle, and his head cracks the corner of the low table before he hits the ground. 

And then Lance panics. 

Like, his focus narrows to the unmoving body before him and ignores the rest of the universe. 

Lance drops to his knees next to him, exclaims, “Keith? Keith!”

Keith doesn’t even twitch. Lance bends at the waist and presses his ear over Keith’s chest and strains to hear the beating of his heart. It’s faint, but it’s there. He places his hand under Keith’s nose to check his breathing, and he sighs aloud at the warm puff that greets him. 

Regardless, Keith doesn’t wake. 

And blood is starting to pool around his head like a sickening halo. 

_ Shit, shit, shit.  _

No part of him wants to leaves Keith’s side, but he sprints over to the panel for the intercom system because  _ he seriously needs help here. _

He slaps a hand onto the PA button and eloquently stammers something about  _ Keith, fainted, help, common room, now.  _

Lance doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he rushes back over the prone figure and feels completely useless. He’s afraid to touch Keith, afraid to make it worse. Lance’s knowledge of first aid has increased since he started saving the universe, but it’s not enough to help him now. He thinks about spinal injuries and head trauma, thinks about what might cause someone to pass out in the middle of a conversation, thinks about why he isn’t waking up.

Why isn’t he waking up? 

Lance’s fearful spiral comes to an abrupt halt when the doors hiss open behind him. 

Allura is the first to arrive, her long skirts bunched into her fists so she can run more easily, but Shiro is hot on her heels. Their leader’s complexion goes waxy as soon as he sees his brother. 

“What happened?” Allura demands as she crouches down beside Lance. She presses her fingers to Keith’s carotid artery, but she makes no attempt to move him.

_ Head injury _ , Lance’s brain repeats,  _ spinal damage.  _

Allura might be a wise and powerful ancient princess, but she can’t move Keith either without the risk of harming him.

Nonetheless, she takes command of the room, “Shiro, tell Coran to bring a scanner, a stretcher, and a neck brace. Lance, calm down, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” 

Realizing he’d never answered her, Lance sucks in a breath and admits, “I don’t know. We were arguing, and then he just got really pale and passed out. He hit the table when he fell. I... shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

Allura turns her full attention to Lance to reassure him. There’s not much she can do for Keith now anyway unless he wakes up. “Head wounds always look bad.”

She squeezes Lance’s hand, and he stares into her determined, iridescent eyes. The turn of her mouth is a little grim, but her strength never wavers. 

Lance appreciates it right now. 

The remainder of the team file in haphazardly in various stages of disarray. Hunk has some kind of orange batter on his left cheek, and Pidge is absently carrying a handful of wires under her arm. Lance hopes they weren’t important because it looks like she ripped them out with her bare hands. When they see Keith, they join the little huddle that’s formed around him just in time for his eyelids to flutter. 

Keith groans. 

“Oh, thank quiznak,” Lance exhales. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

Blearily, Keith looks at the faces peering down at him and frowns, and then, in true Keith fashion, he tries to sit up.

A chorus of dissent follows and four pairs of hands reach out simultaneously to gently push him back down. 

Keith doesn’t even try to fight them. 

“Don’t move. You may have sustained a head injury,” Allura explains firmly. Unwilling to expect Keith to obey her command, Lance keeps one hand on Keith’s sternum. 

Keith squints and makes a soft noise of confusion, “Wh’pp’ned?”

Before anyone can answer, Pidge grimaces, “His pupils are fucking huge. Shit.” 

Allura ignores her, “Lance says you fainted. How are you feeling?” 

“M’okay,” Keith murmurs, and, yep, as Lance predicted, the asshole tries to sit up again. 

“Stay still,” Lance commands. His fingers bunch in the fabric of Keith’s t-shirt as he presses him flat. 

Keith huffs, but he doesn’t get a chance to argue because Pidge invades his space and shines her penlight into his eyes. Keith hisses like she’s burned him with her soldering iron. 

“Pidge!” Lance and Hunk scold. 

Unaffected, Pidge clicks off the light and decides, “Definitely concussed.” 

Keith makes another pained noise and Lance unconsciously cards a hand through his dark hair to brush his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. But even when his brain catches up to the actions of his traitor hands, he keeps up the motion because Keith’s weirdly tense sluggishness relaxes minutely. 

Look, they need Keith to chill, all right? Lance is just helping accomplish the goal. Seriously. He’s just a good teammate. Yes. Exactly. 

Finally Shiro returns with Coran and everyone shuffles around to give the latter some room to work. 

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge stand and back up a few steps. Shiro moves to take Lance’s place at Keith’s side and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Uncharacteristically serious, Coran brandishes an Altean tool that looks like a wand with a datapad at the base and slowly waves it over Keith. He starts at his feet and passes over his head. The object makes a pinging sound and calibrates. 

While they wait for the reading, Shiro probes Keith with questions. He asks how he’s feeling, how he felt right before he passed out, and then he asks, “What have you eaten today?” 

Keith scrunches up his nose just a little as he thinks it over, like it’s a challenge, “Mm. I had some of that... fruit? From Plyas? I think.” 

Shiro frowns. 

“Is he allergic or something?” Hunk frets. “What if it’s like toxic to humans? Or galra?”

Shiro ignores him as understanding begins to dawn on his features. While clearly concerned, his expression goes a little wry when he asks, “Anything else?” 

Keith tries to shake his head, but Coran, Allura, and Shiro stop him.

And Pidge says, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Hunk wrinkles his brow and studies her expression. 

“Hypoglycemia,” Pidge shrugs. 

The scanner chimes before Pidge can continue.

Coran brings it closer to his face and tabs over a few times before he announces, “Excellent diagnosis, Number 5.” Pidge pushes her glasses up her nose. “Number Four experienced a drop in blood sugar, and fainted as a result, which caused him to hit his head and resulted in a concussion.”

“And I’m two for two,” Pidge declares. 

Coran nods at her before he continues, “The report looks good. He won’t need stitches. He can be moved and tidied up. He shouldn’t be alone for the next 20 Vargas. He should also avoid any strenuous activity until I’ve reassessed his condition,” Coran adds. “I believe there’s still plenty of fraise juice in the kitchens from our visit to Venga-5.” 

After a silent exchange, Shiro and Allura shift and stand and lift Keith between them, who wobbles precariously before he mutters something unintelligible and then vomits. 

“I’ll get the mop,” Hunk mutters.

“C’mon, Number 3, you can gather supplies will I help Number 2 handle the clean up,” Coran claps a hand on Lance’s shoulder and steers him from the room. 

Lance twists in his grip and gets one last look at the dark stain on the carpet before he books it to the kitchen.

 

By the time Lance gets to Keith’s room, Allura is gone. Keith wears a fresh set of pajamas, and his hair is damp from the shower. A crisp white bandage is wound around his head to stop any residual bleeding.

He still looks like shit, though, and somehow he manages to glower.

Keith’s arm’s are crossed over his chest, and he looks like he’s trying to burn a hole through the wall with his eyes. His lips are turned in a pout, and he is  _ absolutely not looking at Shiro, okay? _

In contrast to Keith’s gloom and doom, Shiro flashes Lance a grateful if not tired smile and says, “Thanks, man. We’ll put it on the table.” 

Shiro punches the straw through the pouch and passes it to Keith, who sulks but sips at it anyway. 

“I’m going to go change my shirt,” Shiro says. 

Keith glares at him, but Shiro just shakes his head fondly. 

“Don’t let him out of bed, okay, Lance? He’ll say he’s fine, and he’ll pass out again.” 

Keith growls, but he doesn’t respond. 

Shiro rolls his eyes, “You know I’m right. Remember that time in the barracks? You weren’t even concussed then.” 

Lance quirks an eyebrow, so Shiro explains, “He fainted. And then he said he was fine and got up. And then he fainted again. And then we repeated the whole process. Right, Keith?” Shiro teases and then shrugs dryly at Lance, like  _ what can you do? _

And then with one last amused glance, he’s out the door.

Awkwardly, Lance stands with his hands in his pockets and surveys the sparse room before deciding to sit down on the edge of the bed and spit it out, “So... are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, but his shoulders drop in defeat. 

Lance scrutinizes Keith like he thinks he’s hiding an injury. He seems otherwise fine, but who can tell with  Keith.

_ And he’s still pretty _ , Lance thinks, which is unfair. Keith is kind of pretty, even now, even sick, which is ridiculous. 

Ridiculous. 

And then he realizes where his thoughts are going, chokes, and tries to focus the on the conversation, or really anything that doesn’t have to do with Keith’s delicate features and violet eyes.

Fuck.

“So, uh, I guess this has happened before?”

Slowly, Keith turns to face Lance. He looks a little wary, a little mistrustful, and Lance knows Keith is thinking because he always purses his lips into a small pout when he’s really mulling something over. 

Which is a totally normal thing to notice about your rival, seriously. Nothing to see here, folks. 

So he’s pretty? Big deal. Whatever.

Yep.

Focus, Lance. 

After a lengthy pause, Keith sucks a breath through his nose that sounds like  _ what the hell  _ and says, “Yeah. Sometimes. A few times.” 

“Quiznak,” Lance grimaces. “A few times? I almost went into cardiac arrest, man. You could warn a guy.” 

Defensive, Keith throws his hand out in front of him and exclaims, “I didn’t know! It hasn’t happened in awhile.” 

“Well, I’d like to avoid a repeat performance in the future, so what exactly causes it?”

Truthfully, the only time Lance has seen anyone have a blood sugar issue, it was related to diabetes, and Keith isn’t diabetic. 

Huffing, Keith picks at the fibers of his blanket when he answers, “If I... forget to eat for awhile, or if I eat too much of the wrong thing.”

“You  _ forget _ to eat?” Lance wonders aloud. His lips thin into a concerned line, and his eyebrows climb his forehead in a mix of surprise and exasperation. 

Keith shrugs and studiously keeps his gaze on a loose thread, “Sometimes. Sometimes I just get nervous.” 

Lance deflates, “Oh.”

Embarrassed, Keith keeps it to himself, but the first time he fainted was right after he was placed in his first foster home. 

It sort of just escalated from there, but he got it mostly under control as he got older, he thought. 

“Were you nervous today?”

Defensive, Keith tenses and exclaims too loudly, “No!” He clears his throat, “Uh, no, I was just... busy.” 

Lance can see the walls going up, so he pats at Keith’s knee and backtracks, “Sheesh, okay, my bad, calm down.”

Keith grumbles and puts his face in his hands, but he listens carefully when he hears Lance wet his lips and continue in a low, serious voice, “I’m... really glad you’re okay. Like, I’m really glad you don’t have some kind of brain eating alien parasite or something.” 

Lance trails off as a flood of something rushes over him in a way that makes him feel like he’s walking through one of those optical illusions that tricks your brain into thinking the ground is moving. It’s somehow both nauseating and warm. 

Keith doesn’t look up. 

And Lance hears footsteps in the hallway, and then he’s leaning forward, and then he presses a kiss to the soft skin of Keith’s cheek,  _ what the fuck _ , and then he bolts as he sputters some nonsensical goodbye. 

And Keith blinks before his face goes cherry red. 

Fire engine, tomato, rose, whatever you want to call it, violently red. 

And that’s how Shiro finds him. 

He smirks knowingly, and Keith squeaks, “Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Shiro can't keep the shit eating from off his face as he takes a seat next to the bed. “How’d it go?”

Keith sinks into the pillows like he hopes they’ll swallow him up. He pulls the comforter over his head, “I didn’t ask him.” 

“What?” Shiro asks, tugging the blanket down.

“I said, I didn’t ask him.”

“Keith.”

“I know!”

“Keith.”

“I... I started to ask him, but then we started arguing about Star Trek and Star Wars, and then I passed out!”

Shiro, the asshole, outright laughs.

Really, only Keith would start a fight and faint in the middle of trying to ask someone to watch a movie with him. 

So much for a first date, right? 

When Shiro finally stops laughing, he probes, ”Okay. If you didn’t manage to ask him, why were you both so red?”

Keith whispers something. 

“What was that?” 

“He... uh, he... sort of kissed? Me? On the cheek? I guess.”

Shiro waits, and waits, and waits, and when he can’t stand it anymore, he finally prompts, “And then?”

Mortified, Keith twists his fists in the sheets and blurts, “And then he  _ ran away _ !”

 

And Shiro, who is the quintessential older brother, makes sure to include the awkward, over-the-top beginnings of Lance and Keith’s relationship during his wedding toast six years later, where it’s received with a roar of applause and two flustered grooms. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I haven’t written or posted in forever. I’ve been crazy busy, but I wanted to write *something*.
> 
> I have every intention of finishing my WIPs and responding to everyone who reviewed.
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed it! It brightens my day so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
